Enigma
by Trackhawk
Summary: She is known only as a call sign. Lockdown. A symbol of hope, the best humanity has to offer, the best chance we have at beating the alien invasion. Someone who everyone looks up to, who is idolized, who people try to emulate in hopes that came become as strong. And I have been assigned to her squad.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, so recently my friend and I were playing XCOM and I took interest in once of his characters he had created.**

**It kind of became another brainchild for me and so I deiced to star a small fic about the squad he had built up.**

**As this is me writing I will probably be taking a slightly slow pace yet again, so bear with me as a few boring opening chapters will occur**

**Now enough beating around the bush and onwards to the story**

* * *

**Lockdown**

_Wednesday, May 14th, 2021_

_1900 hours_

_Journal entry 1:_

Never, and I mean NEVER, let anyone convince you that waking up from cryogenically induced sleep, is anything but exceedingly painful.

Its not some long version of a good nights sleep, you don't wake up feeling well rested and refreshed, nor do you feel like your ready to get up and take on what ever the universe has to throw at you.

No, it's more in line with the feeling you get after drinking a few to many bottles of vodka, and then getting into a bar brawl. One where you get your head kicked in a few times, and don't get any recovery time.

A severe upset stomach, and few bouts in the bathroom, and a pounding head ache or two are considered the "minor" after effects of the whole ordeal. Meaning that if you only barf you guts up, end up in the washroom for a few hours, or are forced to lay on tyour bed while feeling like a sumo wrestler is sitting on your head, your to consider yourself one of the lucky ones.

The unlucky ones? Well, lets just say I don't envy the janitors in this facility very much, if at all.

Those however are simply just the unsung rules of cryo sleep. In exchange for a period of time in which your body and mind don't age a second, you get to experience the mother of all hung over wake up calls as soon as your pulled out of the tank.

It's a pretty good deal all things considered, especially when you get injured badly.

Now I'm sure your wondering as to why I'm telling you all this. After all most of this stuff is common knowledge, thus makes it all inconsequential.

It's because recently something has changed. Someone new popped up. Someone who apparently either missed the class on cryo sleep after effects, or just dose not want to follow the pre set rules.

Either way, we will have to wait and see if this is legitimate or if it's just some trick being pulled by the other guys.

My bets on the latter.

* * *

_Sunday, August 23rd, 2023_

_1923 hours_

_Journal entry 236:_

At first I didn't believe what I was seeing, passing it off as just someone else trying to pull a tough guy act. Thinking that sooner or later they would crack under pressure and or just let up on the facade.

But as the months and years have wore on it became harder and harder to deny the reality of the situation.

There was someone who could someone how ignore the rules of cryo sleep.

Someone who could simply wake up as if they were merely napping, and be on their way with nothing more than a couple of painkillers, and a hot meal.

They at first became an anomaly. A person who everyone simply said was one of a kind and left it at that.

Soon after though they became an exemplar. Someone who everyone either tried to be like. A poster child of sorts.

Now of days they are an enigma. A person like no one else. Someone truly unique and one of a kind. Someone who everyone continues to looks up to, and who all soldiers still try to emulate.

She has become the pinnacle of success, and the symbol of hope for humanity.

Yet, she is also a complete and total mystery.

She doesn't talk to anyone, wakes up, completes the daily training or mission, and then disappears, returning only when it's time for sleep.

No one knows where she came from, or who she was before the invasion.

Nothing is known about her past, or her squad, or who she answers to, or even what she does on a day to day basis.

No one knows even knows her name, her true rank, her weapons, or really anything about her.

We only really know her face and call sign.

Its a call sign that is known by every solider and civilian. One that signifies hope, and hell to be arriving soon. Hope of survival for you, and hell for your current enemy's.

The call sign of the best spearhead squad humanity has to offer.

Her personal call sign.

Lockdown


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello again**

**So this story appears to be rather popular, as it got more reviews and views in the first than my other story. I don't know why that is but I would like to assume its because it is well liked.**

**In other news, I will be continuing with this story for a little as I find it interesting to write in different style than the one I am use to. Please let me know if you like the journal entry format or not because honestly, I have no idea if it's a good thing to write the entirety of this in that way yet.**

**This is a shorter chapter and I am sorry about that but I needed to get the chapter out of the way sooner rather than later.**

**Again remember to Follow, Favorite, and or leave a review if you like this, as it's really is nice to see what you all think of my stuff.**

**Right onwards to the story**

* * *

_Wednesday, May 2nd, 2024_

_2200 hours_

_Journal entry 342:_

I live on a planet, which has been slowly consumed by a war.

A war that has lasted longer than anyone could have even imagined, caused more death than anyone thought possible, and has pushed humanity to the literal brink of extinction.

It is, has, and continues to be like nothing we as a species, have ever encountered before.

Thinking back all those years ago, back to when They first came for us, I'm honestly surprised we were not wiped out in the first few weeks.

See when the invasion first started to happen, most people either ignore or laughed at the news reports about these so called "Aliens" that were invading. Everyone writing the report off as some comedy skit or prank pulled by the news.

Hell even some of the old world governments though it was a cruel joke played by the larger powers, or some hacked inncedent report and did nothing to prepare.

It wasn't until the fatality figures started to make their rounds that people started to pay closer attention, started to belive the reports and prepare for the attacks that would soon come.

After all, it's hard to ignore or laugh off the news of over five million people being systematically exterminated.

It has been over four years since that day and yet, it seems like it only happened yesterday.

The day Humanity found out we were not alone in the universe.

The day the largest genocide in human history started.

The day almost all of my friends I, ran all the way to the recruiting office the next town over, and demanded they let us join.

It's been a tough five years since that day. A lot of blood, sweat and tears have been shed in the name of training our sorry little asses for the battle field, and even more will be shed once we hit those dam killing fields.

Are we ready? Probably not, but then I doubt we will ever BE truly ready.

There are some things that you simply can't learn in a classroom or from a drill sergeant. Things that you have to learn about, through experiencing them, and more importantly surviving them.

We all know this, which is why the announcement today, that we would be shipping off for the front line tomorrow came as no surprise to anyone.

It has been a long time coming after all.

As of tomorrow, I will be considered a full fleged solider.

As of tomorrow, I will be assigned to a front line squad.

As of tomorrow, this war, which I have sat on the sidelines watching for the past five years waiting to join, will finally become mine to fight in.

Am I scared? Of course

Excited? A little

Anxious? Very much so

Ready to serve my country, no my planet, to the best of my capacity? Absolutely.

I don't know When ill be able to write again as free time is mostly going to be sparse, so Ill sign off with this. Winston Churchill once said

"To every person, there comes in their lifetime, that special moment, when

they are physically tapped on the shoulder and offered the chance to do a

very special thing, unique to each and fitted to their special talent; what

a tragedy if that moment finds them unprepared or unqualified for the work

which would be their finest hour."

My name is Drew Crawford, and I have spent the last five years training to be as prepared as possible.

I am ready for my moment to come.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello and welcome back one again readers.**

**So this story has gotten a bit of attention…. Ok a lot of attention. Ok so Maaaaaybe I'm quite shocked by how much attention it is getting.**

**I honestly can't thank you guys enough for sticking it out through my shitty writing, and how much it means to me to see people come back time and time again to read the stuff I put out.**

**Between life and having to work on two, YES two stories I have had very little time to sit down and write. Hopefully that all changes soon though and I can get back to writing a chapter every week or so.**

**This is not my favourite chapter to write. I don't like how it reads, but I can't seem to fix it and I can't skip it either so please don't hate me posting. Hopefully I can make it up with better chapters later on.**

**BTW if you want more of my crappy writing, The Winds of Change is up for viewing on my profile.**

**And as always, don't forget to Favorite/Follow this story and or leave a review, as it will help make sure I continue to write in the future.**

**RIGHT. ONWARDS TO STORY TIME.**

* * *

_Wednesday, May 3rd, 2024_

_1800 hours_

"Ca-Chunk"

The sound of another pothole resonated through the entire back of the transport. Ringing loud and clear off every corner, before being slowly consumed once again by the massive diesel engines of the M35 we rode in.

There was probably about fifty of us in total crammed into the back of the duce, each with his or her own set of baggage, be it physical or mental in nature. Rifles and combat gear were also loaded into the trucks, as well as spare ammunition, though more as a "just in case" thing than anything else though.

Needless to say, all that baggage and gear meant there was not much room left for movement, let alone enough space enough to get comfortable.

The large canvas dust cover they had over top of us didn't help much either, serving only to block out the view of our surroundings and the sun light, leaving us stuck in darkness the entire trip.

Now normally I am not one to complain about something as petty as travel condition, what with a massive global war happening. However, after twelve hours of this, even my patience were starting to wear thin.

That's right, you herd me correct. Twelve fucking hours of sitting around in the back of this truck, doing jack all, except count the number of potholes we hit and trying not to choke on the dust that slowly filled the space.

If there is a hell, I am almost positive there is a level of it, designed purely off of our current predicament.

Slowly, I looked around at the rest of the trainees... no soldiers that were trapped in here with me. All of them had similar looks to the one I was probably sporting. The look of ruin, of complete and utter mental defeat, of sleep deprivation, and yes, of total and absolute boredom.

I don't know where the thought came from; doubt I will ever find out. All I really remember is realizing what was going right at that moment, and being unable to hold in the laughter that filled my body.

My laughs echoed off the fabric walls that covered us, filling the entire cabin until everyone was looking at me with looks of confusion and bewilderment.

The guy sitting right beside me was the first to speak. "Ummmm Drew? You ok mate?"

I had to stifle my laughter quite a bit to respond, and even then my speech was broken up by whiffs of laughter.

"Yah man, I was just thinking." snicker "Bout how we went through how many years of hellish training, trying to become the toughest soldiers we possibly could, both mentally and physically." chuckle " How we were all pushed to the absolute brink of madness, multiple times, but not once did any of us ever give up or break down."

The man and woman around me, though all still thoroughly confused, bobbed their heads in agreement, encouraging me to go on.

Still stifling my laughter, I continued my explanation. "All that training, all that pain and suffering at the hands of out instructors. Not once giving even an inch to them, only to finally be beaten into submission, by a long stretch of boredom!"

Multiple palms met faces, giggles of laughter joining in with my own boisterous laugher, as the realization sank in.

Soon enough though the cab was filled with a chorus of, giggles, snickers and smiles. Smiles, which I was happy to see, continued pretty well until the end of the trip, stopping only after our drill Sergeant opened the back hatch of our transport.

He eyes us all as if we were a pack of wild animals or a bunch of aliens. Obviously no expecting to be met with a bunch of grins and stifled laughter after that long stretch of travel.

"And WHAT, in the sam hell is so god dam funny might I ask?" his crisp, clear voice making the simple question seem more like an order, with practiced ease.

"Sir, permission to answer sir." Came the loud response from the guy sitting beside me.

"Permission granted son", was his calm reply.

With permission given, and sporting a wide grin, he spoke as clear and loud as possible. "Sir, what we find so funny sir, is the realization, that if our enemy was only able to be beat by sitting around and doing nothing for twelve hours, we would be in a lot of trouble. Sir"

True to his nature, our Sergeant betrayed nothing but a few eye blinks and a raised eyebrow as he listened to the cheeky response. Finally after a solid minute of silence he responded.

"Well then it's a good thing that a heavy dose of hot lead, is our best current solution to that problem son." A tiny slip of a smile playing across his usually stern face as he spoke.

For the briefest of moment his mask lifted. For the tiniest of moments, he was not our drill Sergeant. He wasn't the man who had pushed us to be better than we were ever-single day with out fail. He wasn't the person who had continually and with out fail, punished us for even the smallest step out of line. He wasn't even our superior officer who we took and followed orders from, night and day.

For that small moment he was down on the same level as us. Showing us that even he was in fact human, and not just some robot as we had all first though he was.

Just as quick as it happened though, it was gone. His posture straightened, his scowl re fixed itself on his face and his voice rang out with its usual commanding tone.

"RIGHT, Now I want all of you to be disembarked and ready for orders in thirty minutes! ANYONE, even a SECOND late, will be doing pushups until they PUKE! GOT THAT?"

A round of nods, and "yes sir's" followed suit.

"RIGHT, DISSMISSED."

A flourish of activity followed his final words. Everyone worked as quickly as possible, gathering up his or her equipment and belongings, before exiting the duce in as timely of a manner as they could.

Once outside the truck, one of the other drills Sergeant's quickly pointed us to our new barracks, a large brick building some four hundred meters away.

Her voice cut through the air with incredible ease as she explained the situation to us. "Someone inside will assign you a temporary bunk space. DO NOT GET COMFERTABLE. As you will probably be moving to different barracks, depending on which squad you are put into."

A round of nods and murmured responses followed suit.

"Right. NOW DOUBLE-TIME IT DOWN TO THE BASE TRAINEES! DISSMISSED!"

Not one complainant was heard as we jogged down the road to the barracks. After all, even double-timed, four hundred meters is a pittance compared to what we normally are forced to run.

The barracks as it turned out, was almost identical to the one we had just come from. Same red brick walls, same wooden floor, heck even the same style of wood bunk beds lined most of the room.

Really the only change seemed to be the addition of small chests on either side of the beds for what I could only guess, was our personal effects.

Yes this place brings back memories already. Painful, dramatic, sleep deprived memories. Good times, goooooood times.

The barracks warden as it turned out, barely even cared about us as we jogged into his building. His attention was barely taken away from the book in his hands for no more than a few seconds, as he quickly explained to us, "Since you won't be here long, grab which ever bed you want. Just DON'T mess it up to much!"

I grabbed the first top bunk I could find, all but throwing my bags and gear unceremoniously, up onto the small bed before someone else could steal it.

"MINE" I muttered quietly, as my hands began to make quick work of the straps and knots that littered my baggage.

A few minutes of ensuring that my gear was indeed now stored and safe, later, and I was jogging out of the building, heading straight for the lineup that was quickly forming just outside the doors.

Excitement was evident on everyone's faces as we took our places in preparation of our initiation. Smiles, whispers and murmurs coursed through the group as the minutes ticked past, slowly bringing us closer and close to the announcement time.

Thirty minutes on the dot and all of our drill Sergeant's stood in front of us. Each one dressed and looking much the same as when we first met them all those years ago. The very images of power and authority, standing before us for what may be the last time.

Our group's Sergeant was the first to step forward and speak. His Voice booming out over the entire area, as he addressed us.

"Well, we all know why we are here, so let's just skip the formal crap and get right to the nitty gritty". He began

"Today, as you know, you are all going to be assigned to ride and shadow with a squad who has some actual combat experience. You all have the training needed to perform in the field, its simply experience and knowledge that you lack now. This is and will be the final stage of your initiation into the army; as such you are expected to show your squad mates and new commanders the same level of commitment and respect you have shown us. Nothing less than that will do."

He allowed a belief pause before continuing with his speech.

"Right, all that aside, congratulations is in order to each and everyone of you. It has not been an easy ride, I know that because it's our job to make sure its not. We want only the best to reach this point, and from what you have all shown me, you're all well and truly worthy of that title. You should all feel incredibly proud of what you have accomplished, and know that no matter what happens from this point on, you are deserving of your status as defenders of earth."

"As of today you are officially solders of the Global resistance. As of today you officially will be entering the fight!"

A chorus of Cheers and Ohrahs followed the closing statements of our Sergeants speech, quieting only as the Sergeant of one of the other groups stepped forwards.

"Right let's begin the assignments". Her voice cut through the noise and silenced any and all people still cheering or yelling.

She held up a booklet of papers in her hand as she spoke again. "As all of you know, you men and woman are strictly combat trained. Because of this you will be sorted into squads that specialize in areas of combat we think you would be best suited for. The decision of which area you're best suited for was and has made by us, and is based on your test results, and performance records over the past years."

Murmurs and nods accompanied her explanation as she spoke.

"I know it may not seem fair, but honestly, one, I don't care, and two, welcome to war. This is life and death we are talking about ladies, not collage sports or TV shows. What you specialize in may very well not be what you wanted to do, but remember this. It is what we have seen as your best performance area, and as the area where you are most likely to find success and survival."

More nods and murmurs followed.

"I hold in my hand, the complete list of people here, and squads they have been assigned to. This squad will be your new family for however long you live, so best hope you like the people in them."

A few scattered chuckles followed her comment.

"When you hear your name called, come up front. We will give you the information regarding the squad and place you need to go to meet up with them. You will then leave this area, grab your gear and go meet up with you new commander. Clear?"

A chorus of "YES MA'AM" followed short after.

"Alright, First up, Adrian Smith, Squad Buckshot."

"Second up, Artesian Michael's, Squad Casper"

My slowly mind zoned out as the names continued to flow. The sounds of quickly turning into nothing more than dull background noise as my thoughts ran ramped.

Where would they put me? What could I be specializing in? Would I be a demo specialist? I know I did fairly well in explosives training, but then, so did most people. Turns out it's not hard to cause damage with high-powered explosives.

Maybe an assault squad then? After all I did get compliments on my static rifle scores. But then again I also SUCKED on the run and gun course. I mean sure I had the speed, but my aim was defiantly not that great…

"Drew Crawford, Squad..."

I looked up at her as she paused on the last part. Waiting for her to announce my squad, to finally have the answer I had been waiting for.

Silence. No answer, no statement, no excuses for the stop. Nothing.

Ever so slowly I began to make my way towards the front, unsure of what to really say or do. Heck she didn't even look up when I approached her. Instead she kept her head bowed, looking so intently at the papers she grasped.

"Ma'am?" I asked quietly as I stood in front of her, awkwardly awaiting a response or some sort of signal of what to do.

Finally she spoke, " Report to the main building, there is a man there who would like to see you. Suit and tie, can't miss him." She spoke in soft tones, no commanding edge, or anything. It was more of a request than order.

I myself could only stand there in total confusion at her actions. Was I going to be dismissed from the army? Was I deemed not good enough to continue? What the heck was going on?

Finally after what felt like a few minute had gone by I found my voice. "What squad commander should I ask for?"

She never got the chance to respond, never even needed to either.

I got my answer came from a voice behind me. It was a female voice. Calm, cool and collected, it sounded almost delicate. Yet it was also a voice that held more power, command and edge to it, than any other voice I had heard up to this point. Pure and utter respect was demanded from that voice, and nothing less would do.

A small shiver of fear and admiration ran through my body as the words she spoke finally registered.

"Drew Crawford, Squad Lockdown"


End file.
